


the lines of you were the closest thing to holy I’d ever heard

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Series: for fifty years you were my favorite poem [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Childhood Sweethearts, Forehead Kisses, M/M, Memory Loss, Mutual Pining, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sequel, Stucky - Freeform, begins around the events of Winter Soldier then post cryo Civil War, it's not as angsty as you'd think, some dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 22:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>stark snarls something about his father and steve not deserving the shield then it hits the ground - panther's claw marks, peggy's bullets. gone.<br/>the last thing bucky remembers before everything fades to black is mumbling about Steve carrying him like a bride, steve laughing at the remark with eyes that reflected sadness rather than joy.<br/>and the softest kiss on the forehead.<br/>yes, he remembers every single one of those spanning back to age seventeen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lines of you were the closest thing to holy I’d ever heard

**Author's Note:**

> before I get started: this is Bucky's POV therefore his opinions of certain people are skewed. they do not reflect my personal feelings. also this ran away with me. I didn't intend on it getting this long but it grew legs so

**SEQUEL TO** **[ we wear our traumas the way the guillotine wears gravity (Steve's POV)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7465506) **

_Yeah, there were times we were both half-in and half out the door_  
_but I never needed more than the stars of your grin to lead me home._  
_For fifty years, you were my favorite poem_  
_and I’d read you every night knowing I might never understand every word_  
_but that’s okay – ‘cause the lines of you were the closest thing to holy I’d ever heard._

  
_You’d say, “This kind of love has to be a verb._  
_We are paint on a slick canvas – it’s gonna take a whole lot to stick_  
_but if we do, we’ll be a masterpiece.”_

[I Do](http://ohandreagibson.tumblr.com/ido)

 

If you were to ask Bucky Barnes to describe his life in one word he'd answer with _pain._

In the early 1940's he doesn't know it yet but he will soon lose Steve and his family, every familiar face he'd ever known because home --well it would become a foreign concept rather than a source of comfort. A place he would never return to.

\-----

 **Mission** : eliminate Nicholas Fury

It's 2014 and the asset has failed. He refuses to accept it and attempts once more.

The rooftop across from an apartment building gives him the coverage he requires as he fires a shot, successfully taking down his target.

A man who matches his strength and agility races after him and it is only when the asset catches the shield that he looks into eyes that make him feel for the first time in decades. His heart beats faster and all at once the earth seems to shift under his feet.

Emotions are forbidden, silence is golden.

Danger, danger, danger.

He hurls the red white and blue shield at the man then flees.

There is a darkened meeting with a powerful man that he has only ever known as Pierce and he is given a new mission.

They do not wipe him, not this time and he is thankful for this tiny reprieve.

\-----

 **Mission:** eliminate Romanoff, Natasha and Rogers, Steven G.

It's 2014 and his skin is itchy under thick layers of black leather contraptions, breath labored behind the mask he is required to wear, eyes tinted by thick glasses, boots heavy as he stalks his prey with all the grace of a well trained gymnast. Nearly shoulder length hair brushes against his skin, turns in on itself. But none of this matters. The weapons strapped to his person are a staunch reminder that he is not a man, he is a machine locked and loaded. Machines require regular maintenance as well as fine tuning when they act up thus the many hours, sometimes days, of pain in a back room surrounded by men in white coats and Pierce.

Hydra has wiped his memory more times than should be humanly possible and in return it has caused scar tissue to form - cracks that allow sensations to seep through, sparks of memory, recollections of searing pain, the feeling of having misplaced something terribly important.

He has asked them about his life before - did he have a name? A past? He'd desperately clawed at any information they could provide. It was thin at best: You have no name, you're an assassin for a highly classified organization who came to us many years ago.

He does not miss how they flinch when he mentions the name Steve, asks why it's stuck in his brain.

It is then that he learns to associate _Steve_ with pain.

 

It's 2014 and there's a man on the bridge. His blue eyes reflect the kind of hurt that makes Bucky ache for reasons he cannot pinpoint. The man gives Bucky a name and for a moment he allows himself to consider that this person might just be telling the truth.

Lost in his own head, he nearly gets taken down. It is then that he disappears and looks back only once when he's far enough away that he will not be seen.

Nauseous and dizzy, he is hauled into a bank vault by his handlers. They are anything but gentle. Nervously, he questions them about the man. He'd looked familiar; a face straight out of Bucky's dreams - hallucinations of a desperate man or so he'd thought.

He pleads, tears stinging his eyes and muscles lax - "I knew him...that man on the bridge. Who is he? I...knew him."

It is the last time that he mentions the name Steve and the man on the bridge.

 **Mission:** failed, suspects remain at large

/reboot/

\-----

 **Final Mission:** destroy hellicarrier, eliminate Rogers, Steven G. 

This is where everything goes fuzzy.

The asset's brain feels like it's full of cotton, static around the edges as he shoves a man with wings overtop of a high rise building with no regard as to whether his victim survived or not. He is impeding the mission, he must be removed.

Cut and dry.

There is no room for error.

And then there is Rogers.

They stare one another down on a bridge atop of hellicarrier #3. Everything that an assassin needs to know about this victim in particular is written all over his face: he does not use logic to fight; in his at least he is allowing his emotions free reign and the asset does not understand why or how.

The air around them is humid and sticky, causing sweat to trickle down Rogers' face and onto his cheeks. His mouth remains partially open, speaking words that carry no meaning. Baby blue eyes betray him as he pleads - "Don't make me do this, Buck. Innocent people are going to die."

The fact that Rogers continues to use a name when speaking to the asset angers him greatly. He has no name, Pierce would not lie to him. Pierce protects him. The pain he inflicts serves to keep the asset in line.

Steve Rogers is an insect to be squashed and the asset hates him. Hates his name and what he associates it with. He wants to pick him apart and finish this mission once and for all as it is his last. He'll rest once it's over, they'll leave him alone once it's over.

He is so tired of fighting and full of an anger that has no place in his sterile shell of a life.

It comes as no surprise that Rogers mission is to foil the asset's own thereby ruining everything. The weapon that serves as the asset's arm whirs as he grits his teeth and centers all of his seething rage at the man in the red white & blue suit.

The asset is sloppy in his movements as he braces himself against each punch and stumbles in the process. In a moment of weakness he is captured.

Rogers twists the asset's flesh and blood arm at a painful angle and (not for the first time in his life) he screams in agony. He was right in assuming the name Steve meant pain. He is no different than the others who stain what remains of the asset's mind with memories of electric shock and cuffs on his wrists.

The man does not deserve to live and yet he does.

He wraps both legs around the asset and gets an arm around his neck; squeezes until there is only blackness.

The asset is not down long as he regains consciousness and takes aim at the man. He could've easily went with a fatal blow but he does not and there is no time to ask himself why that is. After all, Rogers is his mission.

Still, the order was to kill rather than maim.

He files this question under: /disregard/

His arm aches as he curls it against himself.

It is then that the hellicarrier is fired upon (likely Rogers doing) and a heavy steel beam traps him. There is only fear now. He is trapped like a feral animal tucked into a dark corner and he _will_ pay for his failure. Rogers will torture him ruthlessly until he screams, will laugh when tears form in his eyes and when he has had his fun he'll finish the asset off for good.

It'd be a welcome prospect if it wasn't absolutely terrifying.

He feels everything and longs for the cold numbness of the chamber once more. Perhaps if he were frozen he wouldn't mind how his story ends.

Heavy black smoke billows out of the hellicarrier as shards break off and fall toward the earth causing the vessel to tilt at unnatural angles.

Eyes follow each move that Rogers makes as he staggers forward, bullet wound bleeding and suit stained, shield at his side. And then he does something unexpected - he uses what's left of his energy to pull the beam from the asset's body effectively allowing him to shimmy out from under it.

Rogers saved the asset.

Why?, his brain asks.

He chooses to ignore it.

"Your name...is James Buchanan Barnes...you've known me-"

The asset screams. No. No he cannot hear this, they will hurt him if they know of this information. His handlers cannot catch wind of this name, this life that Rogers' speaks of. He has no name, he is nothing.

"SHUT UP!," he screams; voice scratchy and dry.

"-your whole life."

Wrong wrong wrong - everything is WRONG.

"You're my friend...I'm not going to fight you," the man huffs with a strained voice.

And then he drops the shield into the river.

He's surrendering, why is he surrendering?

Why-

James Buchanan-

Bucky-

Barnes-

Blue eyes, blonde hair-

The shield-

Bucky-

Bloody lip, he's bleeding-

Rogers-

Asset-

Friend-

Steve-

MISSION.

Painpainpainpain.

FINISH IT.

He surges forward and pummels the man (Steve. Steve Rogers. Mission. Friend?) with every ounce of anger in his body until it hurts. Until they're both bleeding because this is how it should be.

The hellicarrier groans under its own weight - a paperweight barely staying afloat.

They'll die together. Death would hurt less than anything Pierce would subject the asset to if he were to return with another failed mission.

And then the pieces slot together.

"Finish it....'cause I'm with you...'til the end of the line."

OH.

OH NO.

Skinny blonde with the prettiest blue eyes staring up at him with love, trust. There's a man who looks just like the asset but cleaner, softer. He squeezes the blonde's shoulder (STEVE) gently and makes a vow. 

It is only a fragment of that memory but it knocks the asset breathless as tears fill his eyes. Steve. That's STEVE under him, Steve with a bruise that matches the shape of a metal fist, Steve who never backed down from a fight but is lying there nearly dead.

Memories flood back, washing together like heavy tides and he's being pulled under. Drowning in the knowledge that he once had a name, he was loved, he was not always a machine.

And then Steve is falling, falling, falling and this too is familiar. They'll hurt him if they catch him, if he survives this. They'll strap him to a chair until he's screaming and begging for mercy. They'll-

Steve doesn't even try to hold onto anything. He falls silently, back careening toward murky water - waves enveloping him like blankets.

Blankets - layered atop of a thin body. Shivering. Blue eyes.

The asset (Bucky?) dives in after him and moans against the pain in his arm as he drags Steve ashore.

Is he breathing? He has to remember how to breathe - _in and out Stevie. come on, small breaths. I'll get your medicine just as soon as I get paid._

Steve spits up water and yes. He will make it.

Stay, don't go - Bucky's heart says. But he is in no condition to be around Steve and if they catch him Pierce will...he'll kill him.

He limps away.

\------

For two years Bucky does nothing but dig. He collects any information that he can about who he was before, if Steve Rogers can be trusted, if at one time Bucky was a good person. A soldier. Someone's friend.

He travels, steals food and sleeps in crumbling concrete buildings with water leaks. He suffers from debilitating nightmares and tremors, wakes up screaming with his hands curled into fists. And then there's Steve.

He appears in sephia tones on Brooklyn streets. Sometimes he is bloody, other times he's mostly healthy but moping. It's difficult to place them - to determine what's fabricated and what actually happened. Everything blurs, everyone fades into oblivion until there is only Steve Rogers.

On a Thursday after staying awake for three days and two nights he steals a journal and a pack of pens.

He carefully tucks the worn brochure of Steve Rogers (taken from the Smithsonian within weeks of abandoning the man) in between two pages and begins to write.

\------

It's 2016 and Bucky has made himself a home. It's a mostly abandoned and rundown apartment building with his apartment being on the very bottom. Wallpaper peels from the thin walls and blends with the sparse furnished goods - a ratty mattress on the floor, bug out bag under the floor boards, faulty fridge that runs too loudly (sometimes he welcomes the noise) but adequately holds his firearms, various plates with cooking utensils on dusty shelves.

Romania is a place where he can easily blend though he takes precautions - glove upon his metallic hand, baseball cap to cover his (now slightly less tangled) hair, layers of clothing just in case he needs to flee.

He no longer takes lives, rather he buys candy bars and sleeps in on the weekends. He befriends Paulie who owns a fresh produce market under a billowing tent everyday until two p.m. Sometimes she buys him chocolate bars and he awkwardly thanks her, reminds himself to smile.

He works odd jobs under the table and feels a sense of pride at having hard earned cash in his pockets. It goes toward fresh fruit, cans of soup, jugs of water, a backpack to hold the essentials in an emergency, spare clothing, newspapers and a tiny radio that sometimes plays classics on the a.m. stations.

For the first time in decades he knows who he is. His name is Bucky Barnes, best friend to Steve Rogers (though- if memory serves- he'd always longed to be more) who put newspaper in his shoes, son of Winifred, defender of his best pal, possibly the smoothest dancer in Brooklyn, science lover, former sargent in the United States military, ex POW. American, he is American.

Underneath it all though, remains a deep sense of loneliness that stretches far and wide until sleep evades him more often than not. Some nights find him hunched over Steve's photo as he cries, begs for forgiveness that he isn't even worthy of.

This is his life now with its ups and downs, its heartache and agony, its polite smiles and paranoia.

\------

It's perfect in its imperfections until it isn't.

Bucky recalls a colonel telling him once that even if they were to win the war it'd never end for some of the soldiers. He hadn't understood it then but he feels every word as he fights for his life and Steve's against Stark's son.

Without intending to he'd brought the war to Steve. Somewhere along the way he'd found Bucky and then it had gone downhill from there just as Bucky had predicted it would. He is danger incarnate, Steve Rogers should stay as far away as possible and make a new life for himself that doesn't consist of dodging weapons and punches but he's a stubborn little punk so he does the very opposite.

Bucky vividly recalls taking on a boy who shot webs, a helicopter crashing, very vaguely recalls having been carried out of the river in Steve's arms. They have fought for what feels like an eternity and honestly, living shouldn't be this hard.

And then Stark pushes Steve down onto the cement floor and something in Bucky breaks. He sees red.

Years of restrained anger bleed into Tony's suit as Bucky takes hold of his arc reactor and grips it until it nearly breaks. He opens his mouth wide and screams, guttural and pained. He has only just gotten Steve back, he will not lose him to a man who doesn't even deserve the last name Stark.

He hears it before he sees it - the crackling scrape of metal ripping itself in two. His metallic arm hits the ground with a loud thud and the uneven weight of his body combined with the shock sends him to the cold hard floor. The next thing he knows there's a foot kicking him in the face with such force that he's sure his nose must be broken.

It's one minute and an entire lifetime before Steve launches himself at Stark and Bucky can hear nothing but the metallic clang of vibranium upon Tony's suit over and over again.

At long last Steve returns and tugs Bucky up by the hand, throws it over his shoulders and this is a snapshot from too many decades ago - a fiery building with a kiss and the words "NO! Not without you!" There are things in his life that remain unchanged throughout time, this is one of them.

Stark snarls something about his father and Steve not deserving the shield then it hits the ground - Panther's claw marks, Peggy's bullets. Gone.

The last thing Bucky remembers before everything fades to black is mumbling about Steve carrying him like a bride, Steve laughing at the remark with eyes that reflect sadness rather than joy.

And the softest kiss on the forehead.

Yes, he remembers every single one of those spanning back to age seventeen.

\------

He comes to somewhere in Wakanda with Steve at his side and a man named T'Challa who'd apologized in the most diplomatic manner. He'd wrongfully assumed Bucky was responsible for killing his father. Bucky knows a thing or two about loss and the madness it can drive a person to, he forgives easily.

His wounds are dressed and he is given fresh clothing as well as Steve because there's no way he's blending into a bustling city while essentially wearing the American flag.

The room is cleared momentarily in order to give them privacy, time to catch up, time to say goodbye. It's in the best interests of everyone if Bucky takes himself out of the equation. As long as he lives, Steve will continue to burn bridges and become the very criminal he once fought against.

He does not allow Steve to see how hard he's taking this but he has never been good at keeping his feelings from reflecting in his eyes. He'd spent many years turning away from Steve for that very reason, told himself that he'd find Steve a nice dame so that he could be happy. As for himself? Well he'd never made it past the thought of losing Steve.

Steve jams his hands into his pocket and frowns. "So. This is it."

Bucky pats the thin hospital paper covering the bed he's sitting on until Steve joins him, hands on his knee's and bottom lip pressed between his teeth as if he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"Looks like it, yeah."

There is both everything and nothing to say and never enough time.

Steve slumps slightly, replies quietly. "Are you sure, Buck? You know you don't have to do this."

It's not fair, in any aspect, that they've made it this far only to say goodbye again but this is how it has to be. Bucky is tired. Tired of fighting, tired of losing Steve again and again, tired of people looking at him and only seeing violence; death.

He shoots Steve what he hopes is a "it's not that big of a deal" smile before quickly turning away. It is not returned.

"I'm sure."

"There are places where..." Steve begins then abandons his train of thought when he realizes he's unintentionally trying to coerce Bucky into staying, not giving him the right to a full decision.

Bucky curls an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. " 'mm not gonna be in here forever, Steve. Just until everything calms down. I need...I'm tired of fighting."

It's brutally honest in a way that makes Steve stiffen up. When he's scared he either gets quiet or defensive, that's the way he has always been.

"Of course," he replies flatly.

Bucky leans in closer. "Y'know...you could always pay me a visit or two. Can't promise I'll have tea and cookies waiting but."

Steve silently nods, face revealing nothing as he keeps his eyes trained on the floor.

"Hey," Bucky whispers.

Steve turns toward him just as Bucky leans in and presses his lips to Steve's forehead.

Maybe he shouldn't have done that as Steve's facade crumbles and he tears up.

"You remember that?"

Bucky sits back and smiles. " 'course I do. That was the time when you woke me up by accident; kissed my forehead. How old were we?"

Steve actually blushes. "Seventeen. We were, uh, seventeen."

"and then it sort of became a thing," Bucky finishes.

Steve is nearly 100 years old and somehow still manages to be incredibly awkward when it comes to romantic matters. It's sweet.

"Yeah it did."

"You kissed me in the building," Bucky replies.

1943.

It was nothing more than a chaste kiss on the lips given that they'd been strapped for time but it meant everything to Bucky even after having his heart stomped on by Peggy Carter. From that moment forth Steve had stuck to forehead kisses and sharing the same tent. It was both disappointing and comforting just to have that.

Steve smiles crookedly and turns away. "Well. I mean...I thought you were dead."

That doesn't explain why Steve had pecked Bucky back on the lips after Bucky had quickly kissed him when they were 13. Steve had smiled for weeks after that.

"So did I."

How many times had he died since that day? Since Peggy looked at Steve like he'd hung the moon and stars? Since he'd changed into someone nearly unrecognizable, until the train and-

Steve's smile fades. "How long will you be here?"

"Not too long I hope. From the way they explained it they're gonna run some tests here and there, take apart my brain basically. And they're going to fix this," Bucky replies as he points to the area where his metal arm once was.

Steve nods, mostly to himself. "I will."

"You will what?"

"Visit you."

Bucky shoves at his shoulder and smirks, attempting to make light of the situation. "Come'on, I was joking. I probably won't even know you're there or hear you."

Steve stands and peers at the transparent image of Bucky's frame all lit up with implants into muscle. "I want to."

Oh.

Just as Bucky is about to ask why, how this benefits Steve any at all and to explain that he needs to go make nice with his friends - a nurse and T'Challa enter.

The nurse runs a thermometer over Bucky's forehead as Steve watches.

"We're ready to begin," she states.

Steve steps closer and jams his hands into his pockets once more.

He repeats his statement from earlier. "You don't have to do this."

"I think it's best for everyone if I go back under," Bucky replies; a reminder to himself.

He attempts to smile at Steve but it comes out broken instead.

It is then that he steps into the chamber and frigid air rushes up to meet him, frost begins to collect upon the outside.

He rests at last.

\------

It is October 2017 and Steve's lips are warm against Bucky's chilled forehead.

"I've missed you," Steve whispers.

Bucky blinks. His skin is cold to the touch as they place him under a warmer, Steve stepping back as he watches.

"Me too," Bucky murmurs, teeth chattering.

The road ahead will be bumpy and Bucky will never fully recover but his arm has been replaced with a lighter model and he lives.

He lives and because of that, Steve lives.

\-------

If you were to ask Bucky Barnes to describe his life in one word he would answer with _redemption._

**Author's Note:**

> another title from the beautiful lgbt+ poet Andrea Gibson - title is I Do http://ohandreagibson.tumblr.com/ido
> 
> don't pay too much attention to the details, I took liberties with some


End file.
